


Harrowing Happiness

by Thighkyuu



Category: IkeRev - Fandom, Ikemen Revolution - Fandom
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:11:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighkyuu/pseuds/Thighkyuu
Summary: Drabble written while listening to Happier by Marshmellow & Bastille





	Harrowing Happiness

It was time for everything to fall apart. **  
**

    He wished desperately that it didn’t have to fall apart, but it was necessary. If he wanted to ensure your happiness, if he wanted to protect you, everything had to go to hell in a handbasket. He argued with himself over his decision so many times that he almost stayed quiet, stayed with you. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew that for you to be happy in the long run, he had to.

    So he’d brought you into his room, dreading the conversation that was to come. He’d tried to distance himself from you in days prior, but he’d failed miserably, and he’d known that would only make what he was about to do even harder than it was already going to be. He hadn’t known how to start the conversation, but you’d sensed the atmosphere, and your nervousness hadn’t helped when he’d tried to begin.

    Once he’d begun, however, it went downhill very, very quickly. There had been yelling, quite a bit of it, and bitter tones and so much hurt that he almost stopped, backed down, and apologized. He almost stopped and begged for forgiveness. He wanted so badly to apologize, but he couldn’t. And then came the bitter end of what had to happen. He swallowed, taking a slow breath as you opened your mouth to tear him well and truly apart.

“I thought I was your forever!” You screamed at him, eyes brimming with tears, your fists curled at your sides. He knew his next words were going to hurt, and he almost didn’t speak them. Almost.

“Everything is temporary,” he said quietly, his eyes looking anywhere but you, “this was merely one of those things.” You were staring at him, eyes devoid of emotion, of life. He’d done that to you, he knew. He hated himself for it.

“You really did play me like a goddamn fiddle,” you spat the words, shaking your head. “And I was foolish enough to let you.” He hated this. He hated knowing that this was going to destroy you, and he hated that it was going to destroy him, too. “Were we ever really anything? Did you ever even care?” Your words were a knife to his heart, a twisting wrench in his stomach. But he couldn’t give you the answer he wanted to give.

“No,” he began slowly, closing his eyes, “maybe we could have been something, in another world. But no.” He opened his eyes and met yours, and almost looked away when he saw tears there. “And I’m tired of pretending that we were.” You turned away from him, and he worked hard to keep his mask intact. He could not break down, could not show emotion. Not right now. Not while you were still here, and showing emotion could mean he admitted it was all a farce to protect you from him.

    He could not look at you any longer, because if he did he would tell you that he really did love you, that what the two of you had  _was_  something, that he wanted nothing more than to stay with you, to hold you, and never let you go.

    He wanted to say he was sorry.

    Unfortunately for him and for you, that was impossible. And that was just one more reason to add to the list of reasons that he loathed himself.

    You stormed out of the room, shoulders shaking and arms wrapped around yourself, and he stared after you, watched the door slam shut behind you. Only once it closed firmly did he let himself sink to the ground, broken, tears streaming from his eyes. The rest of the world could do as it willed to him, now. It would do nothing to affect him. He had already done the worst possible thing, and now nothing could hurt him. Nothing but you. He rose, wiping his eyes and steeling his resolve.

There would be no more apologies.


End file.
